


The Demon Crowley

by Makkoska



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time Topping, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Set some years before Apocalypse, as it's mostly just porn, not that it matters much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22663972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: Crowley returns from Hell with his demonic powers on overdrive. Aziraphale helps him to calm down. It goes better than expected.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 298





	The Demon Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> I'm home with a bad flu, and what's a better cure than writing GO smut?

If there was anyone he could talk about his relationship with Crowley, Aziraphale would admit it’s _complicated_. It started off as unexpected, when the demon slithered up the wall to talk to him in Eden. It became complicated straight off when Aziraphale responded to him. 

He was fairly sure angels weren’t supposed to talk to demons. They definitely didn’t engage in idle chats with them, except Aziraphale did, so many times over centuries, over millennia. Quite friendly chats most of the time, too. _He’s a demon,_ he told himself over and over again. _You are hereditary enemies. He represents the opposite of everything you stand for._

But it didn’t matter enough at the beginning, when surprise and curiosity got the better out of him, and it mattered very little after knowing him for thousands of years. Crowley _was_ a demon, but he wasn’t particularly evil. He was impish at most, causing mischief, thinking up clever plans which didn’t seem very harmful to Aziraphale, like the one with the mobile phones. The world was a better place without those horrible devices, so if anything, numbers in London becoming unavailable was rather a blessing than a curse.

They had the Arrangement. They had an illicit friendship of a sort. They were also, occasionally, lovers. The last bit multiplied the complicatedness of their relationship by a thousand.

They used to have years, decades of silence between their meetings, which made it easier to pretend they haven’t crossed a line of no return. But as Armageddon drew close, they spent more and more time in each other's company, making pretence so much harder. Crowley was a fiend, his wily adversary, a foul serpent. And, though it was a secret he tried desperately not to let anyone, including Crowley on, Aziraphale loved him more than he ever loved a fellow angel or the humans he was meant to guide and protect. 

Hence, when he stumbled into the bookstore on a stormy night, looking more demonic than Aziraphale ever saw him, smiting was the farthest thing on the angel’s mind. Crowley stood just inside the door as lightning cracked dramatically outside and the rain raged against the windows. He was dripping wet, way too tight clothing plastered to his thin body. His eyes flashed sulphur-yellow in the dark, customary glasses nowhere to be seen.

Aziraphale rushed forward, barely managing to catch him as he collapsed.

“My dear boy,” he gasped. Crowley weighed even less than he looked. “You look you’ve been to Hell and back.”

“Guess what, angel,” he laughed without humour “I just was.” He clung to Aziraphale’s neck, dark painted nails digging desperately into his shoulders. “Rough talent review meeting,” he offered as an explanation. “Beelzebub is not convinced I’m a good enough demon. A bad enough demon. All riled up, ‘cause of _youknowwho_.”

“The Antichrist,” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley shuddered against him, wet clothes starting to soak the angel’s waistcoat and trousers too. “Here now, let’s go upstairs to get you out of all these drenched garbs.”

“Want to get into my pants, angel?” Crowley attempted a cheeky grin and failed miserably.

“Hardly,” Aziraphale scoffed, trying to hide his worry. “You are barely holding your human corporation together.” He wasn’t exaggerating; Crowley’s eyes were huge and more snake-like than ever, amber taken over the white edges completely. The nails grasping him so desperately were definitely longer and sharper than they were before. Aziraphale put an arm around his painfully thin chest and steered him gently up the stairs. He really weighed nothing, but not in his usual, refusing-to-feed-his-body-anything-but-coffee-and-alcohol sort of way. He was quite sure, if Crowley decided, he could step up on the wall, jump up and stay glued to the ceiling. Gravity seemed to mean him less with every staggering step he took. Aziraphale couldn’t tell if his soles touched the ground any more at all. The very air around him seemed to thicken with static, unearthly energies.

Aziraphale’s self-preservation instincts screamed at him to get away. This was a demon straight out from Hell he was cradling close. He smelled of brimstone, of burnt things, of pain and suffering. By any means, he shouldn’t cradle him close, he should shove him away and banish him forever.

He sighed irritably. Instincts, in Aziraphale’s opinion, were something animals needed. Crowley was more obviously demonic than usual, but it didn’t make him a different person. If he was sure of something, it was that he’d never hurt him. 

Once in his dusty bedroom, he started to peel off all that wet clothing. Crowley wasn’t cooperative at all; he clung to his neck with his too-long, too-sharp nails, muttering and hissing under his breath.

“...never appreciated my brilliance… M25 wasss a touch of geniusss… fuckin’ Hastur, doesn’t know it’s not the 14th century any more…”

“Quite right, my dear,” Aziraphale said with just a touch of annoyance. “Lift your arms, won’t you?”

Crowley did, mumbling and swaying where he stood, letting Aziraphale pull his jacket and henley off. His chest was smooth, completely unmarked; gone were his dark dusting of hair, his freckles, even his nipples and belly-button. His skin _glowed,_ a sickly, unearthly pale sheen. 

“Oh my,” Aziraphale gasped.

“Yeah? Like what you ssssee, angel?” Crowley grinned, and it seemed to stretch just too wide, deforming his face quite disturbingly. He did seem to catch up on the idea of getting undressed at least, as he toed off his boots and shrugged out from his pants. He appeared even thinner than usual, his wet denims sliding off to the ground, needing nothing more than a shake of hips.

A demon, just crawled out from Hell. Dead-pale, limbs just too long and too thin, bending just too unnaturally. And Aziraphale thought _his_ talent reviews with Gabriel were bad. Crowley couldn’t hold his usual human form, the one Aziraphale grew so fond of, over the years. Yet he didn’t appear as the raven-winged fallen angel he met in Eden, nor the serpent which tempted Eve. Maybe, Aziraphale mused, ever the scholar, he’d appear like this all the time if he lived in Hell. If he were amongst the other demons all the time, all that stench, slime, darkness and despair - that’s how he imagined Hell to be - would keep his form permanently in this state.

Luckily, he wasn’t. He just needed some light and comfort. A cup of tea, a warm bath. Aziraphale belived in solving issues with a bubble bath and a hot drink. That's what they were invented for.

The naked demon in his bedroom had different ideas in his fiendish head, of course.

“Angel,” he hissed, stepping up close. “If you like what you sssee, take what you like.”

“You’re not making too much sense right now I’m afraid, my dear,” Aziraphale said softly, but did nothing to stop Crowley getting his jointless, pale arms around him. Somewhat surprising, given the state of inhumanness of his body, he still has his genitals. With no sign of the usual dark pubic hair, shot with ginger highlights. But the sight of his cock was still familiar, reassuring. Crowley caught him looking and drew back to grin lecherously at him. Maybe his penis wasn’t so surprising after all. Demons were creatures of _wants,_ lust amongst them. 

“What a nasty, dirty angel you are,” he goaded.

“Am I, now?” Aziraphale muttered, not seeing much point in arguing with him when he was in this state. “And you are one skinny, cold, wet demon. Let’s get you into a nice, warm bubble bath.”

“No,” Crowley tightened his arms around his neck again, clinging, letting him support all his weight. It wasn’t much. “Take me to bed,” he whispered against his ear, his breath hot and humid. Despite knowing better, Aziraphale shivered pleasantly. 

Crowley noticed and chuckled triumphantly. He rubbed his naked, unearthly body against Aziraphale’s fully clothed one. 

“If you are working on seducing me, demon,” Aziraphale was proud to hear his voice still came out steady, “you better revert back to your usual self. I must say, your regular corporation has proved itself irresistible to me on numerous occasions.” 

Crowley burrowed his face in his neck and shook his head, uttering a pathetic little whine, sounding rather like a hurt animal. His narrow hips still moved against the angel’s body, slow but with clear intent. Aziraphale assumed it meant we _would_ if he _could._

“My dear, speak to me. How can I help?” Hesitantly he laid a hand on Crowley’s back, cradling him close.

“Take me to bed, angel,” he whispered. “ _Please.”_

It still could have been a demonic attempt at temptation, but he did sound a lot more himself. Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Come on then, dear boy,” he nudged, trying his best to keep his voice business-like. Crowley all but climbed him at that, entwining not just arms, but legs around him too. With a sigh, Aziraphale carried him to bed. A kitten would have weighed more. 

He laid him down gently and tried to pry his limbs off from him. It was no easy task - he coiled around him like a snake around a rabbit. He managed to unwound an arm, just to have those legs tighten even firmer.

“Crowley,” he snapped, “let me just take a look at you.”

“No. No, angel, don’t look at me right now,” he protested, breath hot in his ear. 

“Now, don’t be ridiculous, you silly serpent,” he used some force now, pushing him down, disentangling himself just enough to look at his face.

The demon stared back at him, with a distinctly affronted expression, huge snake-eyes unblinking. He was panting, mouth open to show sharp canines, predator teeth. His red hair was wild around his face, locks seemingly living their own life. Fiery Medusa-hair. Aziraphale smoothed it out from his forehead.

“Are you there, my dear?” he asked softly, cradling that pale face. Crowley turned into the touch, moaning, hips rolling up now constantly, cock hard and demanding between them. “Are you?” Aziraphale asked again, not trying to stop him, but not helping him either. He had to know. He wanted to help Crowley, but he couldn’t tell if this would take the edge of Hellish influence off, or to the contrary, fuel demonic tendencies. 

They’d slept with each other a handful of times over thousands of years, all occasion brilliant and pleasurable, followed by the cold shower of dread as soon as senses returned. Joy of having Crowley so close replaced by the fear of being found out. They were less careful since Armageddon loomed so close, but yet, Aziraphale did what he could to keep his distance.

Never did Crowley cling to him like this, needing him so obviously. It did something to Aziraphale; making him flush hot, overcome with love for this willy old serpent, his demon. It bubbled dangerously close to the surface. He wanted to help him, protect him.

He usually let Crowley do all the hard work. Not just in the act of sex, although Aziraphale very much enjoyed being taken care of, but in getting there. Crowley usually danced around him like a moth fluttered around flame, getting himself burnt more often than not. Smirking, scowling, dark glasses covering his eyes, pretending he wasn’t playing the game by Aziraphale’s rules.

He did feel guilty about it, he just didn’t dare to do anything to change it.

This time was different, with Crowley’s need out there in the open. His smooth, demonic body wrapped around him in desperation. He had to be looked after, and the angel found he very much wanted to. But Aziraphale needed to know if this was real, and not just foul, demonic intention of seducing an angel.

“Crowley,” he held his face in both hands. “Answer me. Are you in there?”

The demon closed his snake-eyes. Swallowed. He concentrated, and that seemed to take off some of his hellish aura, making him appear more a man than a beast. 

“Yeah,” he responded at last on a rough voice. “It’s me. ‘M me.”

“Oh, good,” relieved, Aziraphale leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his mouth. “I’m here, Crowley. Let me help.”

Crowley drew in a ragged breath and moved to hide his face again in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. He let him, quite determined to go along with whatever the demon needed. Only he didn’t seem to be sure at all, didn’t seem to have any plans other than hang onto him with arms and legs, and hump his still-clothed stomach mindlessly. That wouldn’t do.

“Here, allow me,” he murmured, and wedged in his hand between their bodies, groping for, and finding Crowley’s oddly hairless cock. The demon yelped when his fingers closed around his hot flesh, limbs tightening around Aziraphale like a cage. He didn’t have room to move his hand, but it seemed to be enough. Crowley started to move with more intent, thrusting into his firm grip. 

His mouth was on his neck, kissing, biting, sneaking out an inhumanly long tongue, licking soft skin. The nails on his hands lengthened to sharp talons, scratching his skin as he reached to untuck Aziraphale’s bowtie and loosen the buttons on his shirt. He grew impatient, tearing at them, sharp tip of nail drawing just a tiny bit of blood.

“Oh shit, sorry,” he gasped, but his hips didn’t stop humping into Aziraphale’s fist at all. “Sorry, sorry,” he licked up the blood, and Aziraphale’s pulse picked up pace. He caressed the flaming shock of hair, kissed the top of his head.

“My dear boy, will you look at me?” he asked, keeping his voice even and calm, even as he was starting to feel quite hot under his clothes. Crowley was a writhing mess under him, hot cock wet and desperate, body quivering. He whined, but in a moment or two, he raised his head, locking his gaze with Aziraphale. There was nothing demonic on that face, nothing more than _usual_ at least. His eyes burned with desire and not with fire of Hell, his skin flushed from the desperate way he fucked up into Aziraphale’s fist. 

“Beautiful,” Aziraphale breathed. Crowley’s mouth dropped open. A small, helpless sound escaped his lips, eyes fluttering closed as he came. Aziraphale moved his fingers as much as he could, helping him through his orgasm. Crowley moaned and panted. His cock stayed quite hard.

“Not enough, was it?” Aziraphale muttered to himself more than asked, but Crowley shook his head nevertheless, eyes still closed. “Right, a moment then…” he slipped out from Crowley’s loosened grip and stood up. The demon’s eyes snapped open, gaze wild and desperate. 

“Not going anywhere, dearest. Just taking these off,” he gestured at his waistcoat, sticky with Crowley’s come. “I’m quite warm and, well, mucky.” 

Patience or going slow were never Crowley’s strong suit, and he obviously wasn’t starting when his demonic self was on overdrive. He looked quite ready to pounce Aziraphale and tear off his clothes with his sharp nails and teeth. The angel tutted and pushed him back gently on the bed, using his opportunity to take a good look at him. 

He looked more like his usual self, Aziraphale was relieved to find. His skin still glowed with underworldly hue, he was pale and hairless, but his limbs and posture rearranged themselves into some fashion less defying the laws of gravity and anatomy.

Crowley stared back at him, gaze unblinking and desperate. His fingers were grasping Aziraphale’s white bedsheets, he was pulling his knee up, twisting his body, obviously unable to lie still. His cock was hard and red, glistening wet, lying flush against his stomach, curving to the left. Aziraphale had always found that rather charming, not that he could ever say it out loud.

“Angel, _please,”_ Crowley wheezed, thrusting his hip up, lovely cock bending even further to the side. “Stop staring and just… lend a hand or something. I’m dying here.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” he did snap his fingers though, making his stuffy, come-splattered clothes vanish off him and reappear clean and folded on his armchair. Crowley seemed to appreciate his sudden nudity, if the way he growled and reached out to him was any indication. Aziraphale pushed him back on the bed again, gently but firmly. “You are not dying. Your demonic energies have pent up a bit, and that’s causing you this trouble. But we are going to take care of that.”

“Are we?” Crowley asked weekly, watching him settle between his legs.

“Well, of course,” Aziraphale smiled at him reassuringly. “Now, move up a little bit, won’t you?”

Crowley hastened to comply, and wasn’t that nice, for a change? He spread his thighs, wider that it should have been possible, his breath growing ragged and fast even without Aziraphale doing anything.

“What… what you want me to do, angel?”

“Can you just lay back, Crowley dear, and let me help you? I’ll take care of your problem.”

“Fuck… yeah. Yeah.” 

Aziraphale settled between his legs, gave a quick kiss to the pale, trembling thigh close to his face. He’d done this a handful of occasions to Crowley over the years, certainly not enough times to make him feel confident in his skills, but he wasn't worried about that now, as he usually was. Crowley needed him, and that gave him confidence that he rarely felt otherwise. This time he wasn’t the confused, hapless and slow one, but rather the one giving and caring, and that made him flush with pleasure. 

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered. He took the head of Crowley’s erection into his mouth and _sucked._ The howl Crowley uttered at that was quite demonic.

Aziraphale hummed in satisfaction, working his way down as much as he could. Crowley was twisting and trashing underneath him, so he grabbed his sharp hips, trying to hold him still. His thumbs caressed soft skin, paper thin and sensitive where thigh met crotch. Crowley’s skin was flushed, rapidly losing its sickly paleness. 

Aziraphale glanced up from under his lashes and his eyes met the demon’s. Slit snake-pupils were blown wide, making them look dark. There was desperation in them, longing, need. Love. Love, and wasn’t it absurd, to be a demon and love an angel? Aziraphale loved this absurd creature just as much in turn. 

He turned his eyes away, feeling it was just too much, and concentrated on the task at hand. He couldn’t quite manage taking all of Crowley’s length in his mouth, so he let go of his hips, to cover the base of his prick with a warm palm. His other hand went to his sacks, caressing them lovingly, pressing gently at the smooth skin behind them. Crowley whimpered, his hips rolling up again, pushing his cock deeper into Aziraphale’s mouth.

He took it the best he could, urging the demon on, sliding his lips low, then raising up, circling them just under the head, sucking with intent. 

“Angel…’Ziraphale…” Crowley gasped, fingers winding into his hair. “I’m… Going to…”

Aziraphale sucked harder, and Crowley came, shooting into the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale swallowed what he could and let the rest dip out onto his hand that was caressing his still hard cock. Crowley rode out his orgasm, breathing slowing down. His cock, however, stayed stiff. Aziraphale sat back on his heels and frowned.

The demon raised his head, stared down at his prick through red hair plastered to his face by sweat.

“The bloody, fucking, blasted _bollocks…”_

“Quite,” the angel agreed, wiping his hands clean on the sheets distractedly.

Crowley dropped his head back on the pillow, panting. He darted glances at Aziraphale, so he waited for him to voice what he needed.

“Angel,” he whispered, opening his thighs far apart again, a still long-nailed hand sliding down the white skin, stopping at the base of his persistent erection. “Will you? Y’know. Fuck me.”

Aziraphale took in a sharp breath at that, closing his eyes for a moment. His own cock, already half-hard from all the activities, started to fill out at the thought. They have never done it this way before; most their activities being rushed by the ever-present fear of being caught at it. When it was more than hands shown down in each other pants or blow-jobs while still mostly dressed, Crowley took the lead. He’d seemed comfortable with pampering Aziraphale, with caresses, with kisses, carefully, slowly opening him up before sliding in, fucking into him gently, holding him through it. Aziraphale did enjoy being cherished like that, and while he was intrigued how it would be for him to take Crowley, he was clueless how he should ask. He rather hoped the opportunity would just present itself.

Crowley was offering himself so openly now, and Aziraphale had to remind himself, they were doing this to ease his distress and not for his own pleasure. But the demon was looking at him with such longing and need; surely there was no harm in wanting him in turn.

“Yes,” he rasped, “yes, my darling. If that’s what you need.”

Crowley nodded eagerly, turning to his stomach, looking back over his shoulder at him. He pushed his arse up, balanced himself on his shoulders to free his hands. He pulled his cheeks apart, baring his hole to Aziraphale’s hungry gaze.

“I need you to fuck me angel, more than I need anything. Please, just…take me. Fuck me.”

“We’re doing this properly, Crowley,” Aziraphale said sternly. “Let me do this on my own terms.”

The demon swallowed and nodded, dropping his hands. His head was still craned back at a rather unnatural angle, though he didn’t seem to notice. Aziraphale ran his fingers through tangled, red locks, urging him to lay his head back on the pillow. He did so with a sigh, sounding halfway stuck between impatient and dreamy. The angel pushed another pillow under his abdomen. His hips thrust into it, as if he couldn’t quite stop himself.

Aziraphale smoothed a hand down his spine, counting all the bumps of vertebrae along. It was nice to be able to look and touch so freely. He lay a feather-soft kiss at the nape of his long neck, enjoying the shiver it evoked. He followed the curve of his spine with his mouth, down to his tailbone. He took his time with the bony buttocks next, kissing, fondling them, until Crowley was humping the pillow quite desperately.

“Are you planning on killing me, angel?” he gasped when Aziraphale snapped his fingers, letting a miracle coat them with smooth oil. “Oh G... _Satan,_ you _are,”_ he growled when those fingers slipped into his crack, pushing gently against his opening. 

“No need to be so dramatic, dearest,” Aziraphale chuckled. He sounded equally breathless, he realized.

He didn’t let himself be hurried though. Crowley himself was always so gentle and careful when preparing him, and he was determined to give him the same treatment. 

Crowley dug his claws into the bedsheet when he carefully pushed against his hole. A single finger slid in, meeting with surprisingly little resistance. He moved it around the little, circling gently, tiring very hard _not_ to think about how that heat and hold would feel around his cock, fearing he might just come at the very idea.

“Ready for one more?” he asked breathlessly, and Crowley nodded eagerly. 

“I was _born_ ready, angel, please, of fuck, fuck, right there, again…”

Amidst the litany of courses and encouragement, he worked him open, adding a third finger, looking for the bundle of nerves that made him see stars when Crowley was doing this to him, hoping the demon’s body actually worked similarly. He needn’t worry, as when his fingers found what he was looking for and pushed against it, Crowley shouted out, nails tearing the sheets, losing words and just uttering guttural sounds of pleasure.

“Do you think you can take me now?” 

Crowley nodded eagerly, but Aziraphale felt just wicked enough to ask.

“Was that a yes, Crowley?”

“Jesus, Aziraphale, of course it’s a yes,” he groaned into the pillow, pushing his arse back. I swear, if you don’t fuck me now, I’ll...nnngh. Ah. Fuck.”

“You will what, dear?” Aziraphale asked with fake innocence. He lined up his prick, rubbing it against Crowley’s hole, pushing his cockhead in just enough to feel the tight muscle part open, before withdrawing. He only received a long string of jumbled vowels as a response. He pushed in again, and this time kept at it, pressing torturously slow into tight heat.

He grabbed the demon’s arse cheeks, pulling them slightly apart to be able to watch himself sink into that lovely body. Crowley hid his face in the pillow, but it hardly muffled his moans. It took a while until Aziraphale was fully sheathed, then he stayed there motionless, feeling absolutely dizzy with arousal.

“Can you breathe, my dear?” he croaked when he felt he could talk again. Crowley raised his head obediently, and took a long, shaky breath, relaxing some around him. “That’s it,” Aziraphale gasped. “You are doing so well. You are doing so beautifully.”

Another shaky breath at that, one that sounded not unlike a sob. Aziraphale pulled out slightly before thrusting back in, just a gentle rock of his hips. “Is this okay?”

“Sss’good,” Crowley managed. “Ssso good, angel.”

They built up tempo slowly, rocking of hips, Aziraphale’s soft thighs pressing against Crowley’s sinewy legs, pushing in until his sack rested against the demon’s arse. 

“More, more now,” Crowley pleaded, he demanded, and Aziraphale obeyed, moving with more force, pulling Crowley back by the hips onto his cock, encouraged by a litany of more-s, harder-s, and fuck-s, until he was slamming into him, rocking the bed, banging the headboard against the wall with all thrusts.

“So good, you’re so lovely,” he gasped, words failing him to describe how wonderful he felt, how privileged he was for Crowley to trust him so much, that he loved him so much. 

Crowley didn’t appear to hear him anyway, far too gone in his pleasure. He bit down on the pillow, lengthened canines tearing it, until soft white feathers flew everywhere. Aziraphale closed his eyes, not quite ready for the sight, but not stopping the movement of his hips. He only opened them when he felt Crowley shift underneath him, grabbing at his own cock, jerking it with desperation.

“My dear,” Aziraphale gasped, “are you going to come for me?” Crowley’s whole body twitched at that, and he was, coming against his hand and onto the pillow. Aziraphale rode him through it, holding him by the hips, until the spasming muscles triggered his own orgasm as well. He shot into Crowley’s body, pleasure spiralling up, up, _up,_ and it seemed to take an eternity for him to come back to earth. 

He pulled his softened cock out, watching with no small fascination the semen dripping out from Crowley’s stretched hole. He dragged himself away from the sight and up on the bed, lying down next to the other.

Crowley’s face was lax, his mouth hanging open, his eyes shut.

“Are you all right, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked with some concern.

“Mmmnngk,” Crowley peered one eye open, took in Aziraphale’s worried expression and made a second attempt at speech. “M’brains been just fucked out, angel,” he drawled. ”’Course m’ right. Never been better.”

“Right,” Aziraphale laughed, relieved. He ducked his head, placing a soft kiss on the other’s lax mouth. Despite what they have been up to the whole night, Crowley blushed. Aziraphale pretended not to notice. “Are you feeling yourself now?”

“Mmm, guess I am?” Crowley pushed up on an elbow, to take a look at himself. His limbs seemed to move laxly, but quite normally for him, his canines and nails shortened back. Aziraphale was delighted to see the lovely dusting back on his chest, around dark-pink nipples. But most importantly, his high-strung, otherworldly energy has quieted down. He flashed a relaxed, happy smile.

“Thank you, angel. I didn’t know you could cure excess demonic energies so proficiently.”

“Well,” Aziraphale blushed, well aware he was being teased. “One does what he can.”

“Yeah… you certainly know how to… wield your mighty, angelic sword.”

“Crowley!” he laughed despite himself. “You horrible beast.”

The pillows were ruined; one torn to pieces, the other sporting a large, sticky, wet spot. They settled in without them. It was risky; they never spent the night together. Just this once, Aziraphale told himself, cradling Crowley’s bony body close. For one night they could ignore the child Antichrist, Heaven, Hell, their duties. He kissed the top of the red hair and watched as Crowley drifted off into sleep, looking peaceful, well-fucked and absolutely un-demonic. He waited until he was sure Crowley was truly and deeply asleep, before whispering.

“I love you, you impossible fiend.”

**FIN**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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